Side by Side: Mormor And Johnlock
by Captain Arthur
Summary: SOmething quick I came up with to assult people with feelings. This is a Moran/Moriarty and John/Sherlock. Sebby cusses a bit (alot) and some other stuff... sooo... You have been warned. Seriously. Oh yeah, this is YAOI. Almost forgot to put that...


**Sup. SHERLOCK doesn't belong to me. Sorry. There would be a lot more feels attacks if it did. Have fun, and if your heart hurts, that's normal. PS, if anyone wants to draw this for me, I would be a superdooperhappy camper. 'Cause I can't draw people… Just let me know, okay?~**

You can't have died up there, you stupid genius. Where the fuck are you? - SM

Colonel Sebastian Moran stares at his phone, the glow of the screen lighting up the room and the tiger skin on the wall behind the queen-sized bed. The scar across his nose and the one down his left eye are lit up eerily.

_And I know it's pitiful after all this time, but part of me still wants to believe he's alright. Everyone is finding normal again, some never left it, but I can't… I can't take it without him… my leg's shot again, like running with him made it better… and now…_

John pauses, fingers floating above the keys of the laptop, but doesn't look away from the bright laptop screen. He knows it is empty but for himself and the dog sleeping on his feet. He knows the violin he can't bear to move is dusty, that the smiley face doesn't seem as bright as it did once before. His eyes are on it before he can stop himself.

_He's gone._

Jim, if you've actually killed yourself, I'm going to kill you.-SM

The sniper pauses, takes a steadying breath, lights a cigarette, glances around. His blood is on the walls, spilled by his madman. His madman who carved his initials into his shoulder as a _promise_, who marked stripes down is back with permanent ink when he was 'bored'. HIS _fucking_ madman. Smoke clouds the room as the 'tiger' exhales after a long drag.

_I know he's gone. I just really want him back, he's _Sherlock Holmes_. He can't just… die…_

The ex-army doctor sighs, closes his eyes and shakes his head. His hands shudder as he raises a cup of coffee to his lips. It doesn't taste like it should, doesn't taste like anything anymore, so why should he bother…? He tries to focus on the blog entry, vision blurring for a few reasons, and Sherlock would have called all of them weak.

I love you, you crazy idiot. Where are you? Why won't you come home? –SM

Even when Jim was messing with him, playing with him, fucking with his mind, he always replied just as Sebastian was composing the third message. 'Cause by the third message, Sebby lost it. His aim got off, the gun got shakey in his usually stable hands, and his eyes went a bit wild… but something just crumbled within him now and he laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed until he was sobbing and he felt sick. The hit man had never cried in his life, and he wasn't about to start now. He sat in bed, elbows resting on his knees as he propped his head up with his handgun to his temple, tapping the phone gently against the other side of his head.

John Hamish Watson deletes four words he never got to say, unwilling to let the world grasp just how lot he was. Sherlock would have thought it ridiculous.

_Sherlock, I love you._

Without the words, it's unfinished, but he can't do it. John posts it anyway and closes the laptop, plunging himself into darkness.

Jim. Please. I don't wanna play anymore. The world's boring without you stupid. –SM

Jim? –SM

Jim? –SM

You're not leaving me here. Fuck you in hell babe. –SM

He waited that one second more, those moments that weren't doubt. If anything, they solidified his decision. Either Moriarty was alive and didn't care anymore, or he really had blown his brains out without telling him or saying goodbye. Sebastian closed his eyes and lifted the gun, deciding to go straight through the forehead. It'd be the messiest besides through the roof of his mouth. Even messier. He lifted the gun to his forehead, pausing despite himself as a text came through.

His heart lifted and fell crashing down.

_-Automatic Message-_

Probably some monetary notification. But he checked it anyway.

Basher~ This message was set to be sent five hours after my death. That's right- surprise! I'm dead! :) You can fuck me hard for it when you join me okay? We both know villains never win, but this means I did! Sherlock is dead and I blew my noggin all over the rooftop and John will slowly die, like a little daisy separated from the sun. Isn't it glorious Sebby?! You're probably as shuddery, but I want you to look pretty, okay? Straight through your temple, not through your forehead, Seb. That's not professional. Make sure you're phone's unlocked for all the normal little policemen, kay? Good little Tiger. I miss you lots already. Don't keep me waiting, hell is so frightfully boring. ~JM

Sebastian stared, then slowly glanced around. He could basically hear the light tones, the devilish giggles, the coy undertone and the purr on certain words, could see that little devious smile. His madman's words in his ears and cold metal pressed to his skull, Colonel Sebastian Moran pulled one last trigger. His last target.

A light blinked on, blue in the blackness. John, shielding his eyes from the screen's intense glare of the laptop again, clicked on an anonymous email.

_From: Anonymous_

_Subject: You and two and a half years_

_Love you too John, just a little while longer. SH_

John sat back and smiled, reaching out to trace over the first sentence with three fingers.


End file.
